Drastoria: A Love Story
by Saranya S. Guttikonda
Summary: The story of how Draco met Astoria. Him facing her death. Welcoming Scorpius to the new world. Family problems. Rumors. Drama.


**Chapter 1: Hurting**

Draco sighed. He was bored. Again. Pretty normal when you didn't have a job because you were too rich and or lazy to work. Right now, he was slumped over in his seat, thinking of what to do next.

"Draco" came father's voice.

"Yes?"

"Stop slouching. You are a Malfoy. You have every right to sit up straight and feel proud of yourself."

"Well the rest of the Wizarding World doesn't think so." came back the familiar answer.

"And you still haven't answered my question from yesterday." father continued.

Draco suppressed a groan. Not this again. Not know.

" _Draco, look at me."_ came his mother's sharp voice. With a sigh, he glanced up. There she was. Icy blue eyes narrowed, and her hands on her hips. Her shiny blond hair was pulled back by a dark green barrette. Mother's dramatically black-lined eyes didn't really help. Father was, as usual, wearing dragon-scale robes, this time a deep, rich purple. His sleek blonde hair was let loose this time, and his ever present cane was tapping the wood floor repetitively.

"Tap tap tap. Tippy tappity tap." went the gold tipped cane.

"I'm asking you one last time, Draco, do you have any plans to get married? Do you have anyone in mind?" his father asked slowly, but Draco could tell he was on the verge of pulling out his wand and hexing him with the Bat-Bogey curse. At the same time, anger welled up in him. It wasn't his fault he couldn't find himself a girlfriend. Parkinson had dumped him after his father was sent back to Azkaban upon losing the Battle of Hogwarts. And he might as well give up on proposing to a random witch in the street. His family may be rich, but they were not respected or powerful. At least not anymore, since Potter had to stick his ruddy nose into his business. The same nose he had broken years ago. Now, he was ignored and treated like he were invisible anytime he entered a public place or a store. So he resorted to staying inside. Once again, his skin had developed a grayish tinge just like it had during his sixth year in Hogwarts because of the damned mission Voldemort had given him. The mission he failed, thanks to Severus Snape.

" _Draco!"_ came his mother's voice again. He realized he had probably zoned out. " _Do you have any plans of getting yourself a wife?"_

Finally gathering his courage, he managed, "No. No. I haven't. To be frank, I don't want to married either. Why do you even care? Its my life. My business. You've ruined it enough as it is."

"Draco Malfoy, don't you talk to your mother like that. And, young man, you should have been honored to be working for the Dark Lord. You yourself agreed to kill that Mudblood lover, Dumbledore yourself, do not try to deny it."

"You're right, I was." Draco retorted sourly. "And I'm not anymore. I only agreed to kill _Professor Dumbledore_ because he would have killed us all if I hadn't! You were in Azkaban, what did you know?"

"Draco, that was five years ago. Please drop it." his mother interrupted just as Father opened his mouth.

" _Professor?_ Now you've resorted to calling that man a _professor?_ How-"

"Lucius, please." mother interrupted, her voice tart. "Fighting over the past is not going to help us with the present problem." After a good few minutes of silence, Father finally took a deep breath.

"Look. Draco. You are my son. I am your father. All I want-"

"I bloody know your my father. I've known that was true for a damn 20 years."

"Please. Stop. Interrupting."

"I don't care what you've got to say to me."

"Draco, all I want is for-"

"YOU WANT LOTS OF THINGS, OLD MAN. AND I'M NOT THE PERSON TO GIVE THEM TO YOU. GO FIND YOURSELF SOMEONE ELSE TO BE YOUR PUPPET. SOMEONE ELSE TO SAVE YOU WHEN YOU KNOW YOUR SITUATION IS HOPELESS, BECAUSE IM TIRED OF IT." Draco stopped, shocked at what he did. Well. He wasn't expecting that. He peered at father slowly, feeling terrified. He had gone red in the face and was gripping the cane so tightly his knuckles were turning starch white. Mother had gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

"D-Draco! How c-c-could you say that to your own f-f-father?!" she managed, and then burst into tears. Quickly, she sprinted out of the room, sobbing. A terrible feeling of guilt overtook Draco, as he tried to call to her. No. It wasn't possible. For the first time, his mother was ashamed of him. Of something he said. Why, why had he been so foolish? Well, the worst was yet to come.

"So. Is this the son I've raised for the past twenty years? A child who has no idea of what I've done for him, what I've gave him. I raised you, Draco Andrei Malfoy, so you would be the perfect heir. My sole heir. Apparently not." His voice was soft, but cold. Plain, but full of weariness and worry.

"Father." Draco started "Father, please, I didn't-" Nevertheless he continued droning, as if Draco wasn't there.

"And now, I ask you one thing. I ask you for a daughter-in-law so you can have heir. So the precious Malfoy line won't end with you. So someday, our family can prove to be just as good as everyone else. So any man from our honored blood-line won't be considered a traitor, a liar. But it seems that shall never happen. Maybe you are right Draco. Maybe I am just and old man who is asking too much of his son." He murmured a few more inaudible lines, and slowly shuffled out of the room, leaving Draco standing alone. It was as if the temperature of the room had dropped a 100 degrees. He felt too cold to cry, too cold to talk. Too cold to think. It took him a few more seconds to realize it hurt. He hurt. On the inside. Why did he raise his voice? His father wanted a heir. A grandson. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. He was pretty sure he had no medical problem. Just some type of internal fire, gnawing away at his insides, like guilt, anger, and sadness was building up inside of him like a landfill.


End file.
